Rolled 18 (1d100)
>>5284966>>5284889>>5284878>>5284869>>5284893>>5284864“We will not tempt fate. We are a party rooted in pragmatism, and our ultimate objective lies in the foothills of the Bloodrise, beyond the elven territories. We are setting out to tame rebellious kobolds, not to feud with some elven brigands. Be smart! By stealthy! Be underhanded, as is our right as Reptilians! There is no great glory in slapping around apes, nor any strategic advantage in helping the surface-elves in disposing of their criminals.”
This draws laughs, cheers, and mockery of the elves. Paeris seems ambivalent, and the Elf-Specialist seems deeply annoyed and disappointed.
“Never fear,” you say to the latter, when the rest of your party has begun to gather their supplies and to set out for the passages downwards, “your skills will still be useful in avoiding the elf-apes, as well as dealing with them more directly should we prove unable to avoid them entirely.”
“As you say, Dragonborn,” the Self-Specialist acknowledges, though he is plainly unconvinced.
The Chaplain does not see off your expedition directly. Never having seen such a force depart, let alone been a part of one, you do not know if this is normal procedure, or if he has snubbed you. You choose to ignore it, and you and your troop descend into the deeper darkness below your own familiar realm once again. You take different turns than you did when last you were down here, with your elder brother, and soon you are officially outside of the world you knew.
Were it not for the maps you brought—and the Cartographer, and your better-traveled scouts—you would be hopelessly lost in a realm that is much like the one you have lived in all your life, yet different. The carved hallways give way to roughshod rock, and to increasingly narrow squeezes through geological strata. Your own considerable bulk catches and is occasionally wedged between edifices, such that you find yourself grateful not to have brought your brother after all—this would be no fun trip for the Great One, and to find passages suitable for him as well would have slowed down your single-file Reptilian caravan.
Still, you miss the Green Dragonborn more and more as you journey through the day. You catch yourself wishing you were back at home, meditating with him for an instant. You shake it off, chalking it up to your not-inconsiderable physical weariness. You scarcely experienced any rest at all last night, between manufacturing Glowie’s amulet and the late stroll which resulted in your purchase of the Junior Novice.
